To Each Her Own (The Swirl Book 1)

by Sylvia Sinclair

  She stepped inside, hearing a chime from the alarm as she entered. Front door, opened. She stepped onto the ivory and gray, black diamond marble floors that led to the grand, custom designed two-story balcony foyer.

  Shasta looked up at the spectacular 1920’s crystal fringe chandelier that hung above her, which her dad had bought in Italy. The décor of the home had a lot of crimson and gold, reflective of his years of being a member of the Kappa Alpha fraternity.

  Shasta made her way into the magnificent gourmet kitchen, which was one of two kitchens. The one in the basement was just as large.

  Shasta’s father, Edward River Gibson, exited from the elevator and stepped directly into the kitchen, walking up to Shasta, looking like he was entering a room full of people and he was about to give a speech. He always had the air of a politician, and the voice of a radio announcer.

  He strolled in with a bit more of dip to his walk than she remembered, and he actually bowed to her as he stood in front of her, then hugged her tight, giving her a long, firm kiss along her cheek. “You look beautiful as always.”

  She took in the scent of the same spicy, cinnamon, woodsy fragrance of Boss by Hugo Boss cologne he always wore, telling him, “Thanks. You look good, too, Daddy.” She looked closely at his face. “Are you getting younger?” From the last time she saw him when she noticed his wrinkles deepening and the vertical line between his eyes, it all seemed to look softer.

  “Maybe I’m more relaxed and my face shows it.” He looked down. “But if my knees could answer that, they’d say ‘hell to the naw.’”

  She laughed, as his hipness surprised her. “Yeah, right. You’re as spry as a man half your age.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.” He took hold of her overnight bag and set it upon the bar stool that was in front of the six-by-eight, swirled Brazilian granite slab island.

  Shasta’s dad was six foot five, slender, with light blonde hair cut close, and a full low beard. Behind his eyeglasses, his deep-blue eyes shone. He had on black jeans, a green golf shirt, and black Adidas slides. The muscles of his biceps showed themselves, and were that of a man half his age.

  Shasta placed her purse along the island. “The house looks good, Daddy.”

  “Thanks.”

  “A few changes, I see. The front door for one.”

  “Yeah. Got a deal on that door. With the other door, you could see right through the glass.”

  “The other door looked just fine, Daddy.” She could only imagine what the new door had cost him. She faced him, smiling at his sight. “Tell me something. Why are you in this eleven thousand square foot home alone? Eight fully furnished bedrooms, seven bathrooms. Three stories, at your age? And as you say, with your knees?”

  “That’s exactly why I have an elevator. And also, because I want it this way. I earned this house through hard work, you know that. It took blood, sweat, and tears. Each and every day, this house reminds me of just how blessed I am, and how hard I worked at starting my own company many years ago, and making it a success.”

  “I can understand that. You did great. And yes, you have things. But Daddy, quality love, and time with someone are important, too, you know.”

  “Like they say; been there, done that. I’m fine. Tell me though, why do people always assume that if you’re alone, you’re lonely?”

  Shasta was reminded that she had just said the same thing to Maya. “True. But you’ve never told me about you having anyone special.”

  He stepped to her and kissed her cheek again. “I have you. And as far as a woman who could be a companion, there is no one special. No one wants an old coot with bad knees.” He proceeded to the stainless steel refrigerator.

  “Yeah, right. If there’s someone, you can tell me. Are you sneaking and creeping with one of the groundskeepers, or the pool girl, the maid, or perhaps even your chef. Is your chef female?”

  “I no longer have a chef.”

  “Yeah, but you skipped over the other three.”

  He was tight lipped, grabbing a can of green tea from the top shelf.

  “That’s all you’re going to say, huh?”

  “You want some tea? You thirsty?”

  “Okay, ignore it. Yes, I would, thanks.”

  He pulled out another can and closed the door. “Can okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  He rinsed off the tops of the cans and brought one to her, popping the top. He then popped his.

  She said after taking a sip, and then swallowing, “Oh yeah. It’s good and cold.”

  He sipped too.

  “Daddy, I have to tell you that honestly, I’d be scared to live here alone. I think the house in Evans was a better size for you. Your master was on the first floor.”

  “Well I don’t it was better. Besides, I’ve got protection in a gun or two, and a serious alarm system, cameras.”

  “You still don’t want a dog?”

  “No, honey. That’d be like having a child. I’m done taking care of anyone but me.”

  “Okay. Okay.” She sipped again. “I wanted you to know, I’m thinking about reaching out to Mommy while I’m here.”

  “Good.” He drank from his can again.

  “You talked to her lately?”

  “Lately? Not even. Last time I talked to her, you were in high school. Try maybe two decades ago.”

  “Daddy, I still don’t understand that. You two live less than twelve miles from each other. She’s only in Grovetown. Why is that?”

  “She moved on. She took the bait. What is there to talk about?” His tone and expression were emotionless.

  “Bait?”

  “Ask her what that means.”

  “Okay. But Daddy, people make choices, and I believe you can never forget the part of them that made you fall in love with them in the first place. She can’t be all bad.”

  “I didn’t say she was all bad. She made her bed, let her lie in it. She left me, not the other way around.”

  “True.”

  “Besides, how many of your exes are you in touch with just because you want to honor the part of you that made you fall in love with them?” He waited for her to answer, tossing a look like he knew he was right.

  “Fine. It just seems that ever since she left us, to me, you’ve shut down.”

  “Shut down? Dear, I was running companies, working sixteen hours a day until a few years ago. I retired early, and I’m still handling my business. I’m only sixty-nine. I’m fine.”

  “Really though, what about love, Daddy?”

  “Women are nothing but trouble.” He guzzled his tea.

  “Oh, we are, huh?”

  He pointed to her with his can. “You, my lovely daughter, are the exception to the rule. You’re educated and taking care of yourself, not looking for a handout. A lot of these women are just looking for a sugar daddy. I don’t have time for that?”

  She put her can down and leaned back against the island. “So, do you still go to church? There are surely church women who wouldn’t be looking for a man’s money.”

  “Oh that’s where you’re more likely to find them.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “I know that.” He nodded fast.

  “When was the last time you went to church?”

  “The last time I went to church was the last time a woman tried to get me to buy her a car after I struck up a conversation. That was about six months ago.”

  “What?” She grinned just from imagining it.

  “Yeah. She came right out and asked me to buy her a Lincoln that her neighbor was selling. Said she’d pay me back, and I was like, not even.”

  “That’s not good.” She picked up her can again and drank. She looked at him. “I’m just trying to picture you striking up a conversation with a woman.”

  “Oh, I know how to do it, now. Don’t let my age and a few wrinkles fool you. I can catch.” He gave a suave glance.

  “I’m quite sure you can.”

  He leaned against the island. “So wh
at’s going on with you at work? Things good.”

  She went over to the sink and opened the under cabinet. “Do you still recycle cans?”

  “No. Just toss it.”

  She put the can in the trash, and closed the cupboard, turning back around. “Daddy, I quit that job.”

  He asked with an edge, “What? Why? And how in the world did Tyson ever allow you to do that?”

  “I got tired of it. Too many office politics.” She headed back over to him.

  “No way. You loved that job, and the company.”

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  Edward strolled to a corner desk in the kitchen and grabbed the cordless from its base. “Quit? You might need to rethink that. I assume you have another job, even better.”

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  He looked at the display. “Speaking of Bain, that’s Tyson calling now. One minute dear.”

  Shasta gave more of a smile than she wanted to, and her heart agreed. Nervous. She looked around the kitchen, her mind sprinting, wondering how much of a coincidence this could be, then she looked back at her dad, smiling again.

  He pressed a button and put the phone to his ear. “Hey there Tyson B. How are you, big guy? Good. Good. I’m sitting up here with Shasta now. She’s here for a while. We’re getting caught up on things.” He waited. “Okay. Yeah, sure. What is it? Uh-huh.” He listened. “Uh-huh. Yeah.” He raised his brows. “She what?” He looked dead at Shasta and his brows fell. “Yeah, she told me she resigned. And?” He waited. “Who?” He listened. “You have got to be kidding me. You aren’t lying are you?” He waited. “That’s crazy. No way she’d do that.” He snatched his eyes from her and turned his back. “She’s dating who?” He waited. “What?” He listened. “And why are you telling me this? Why are you bringing this to me? I don’t believe a word of it. She’s right here in my home after doing that? Tyson, I’ve got to go.” He hung up, set the phone on the desk, and turned to face her. His face was pissed. Without even a question for her, he proceeded to say, “I’ve raised you pretty much by myself, and since very early on, there have been certain values that I’ve instilled in you. There have been certain moral standards that I talked to you about and you agreed with. And now that you’re a grown woman, you’ve decided to go against my wishes, my beliefs . . . and date outside of your race? Is this true? Please tell me it’s not, Shasta Ann Gibson.” If looks could kill, she would have been deceased.

  She swallowed hard, seeing his disappointment on his face, hearing the tight tone of his voice, the deep anger in his eyes, and the heat of his sense of violation. “It is true, Daddy.” She put it out there. “I’m dating a man named Ramón, and he is black.”

  His eyes spewed anger. “Shasta, now come on. You know what has gone on in this world. I’ve talked to you before. It is not safe, it is not okay, and it is not what’s best for you. Period!”

  “I know, Daddy. You’ve talked at me ever since I was like seven, pointing people out and sharing stories, and telling me who I should be around, who I should play with, who I should be with. Even when I was a teenager you continued by word and example. And even by the time I moved out, same thing. You told me that I shouldn’t mix races, I shouldn’t make biracial children. But you never told me why. You just kept saying that I should stick to my own kind. Well, Daddy. I tried that. I really did. But I have also tired this, with Ramón. I’m trying something different, that’s all. Just something different from the norm.”

  “Something different from the norm?” He walked toward the sink, looking down, and back to her, examining her face. “Something different? You make it sound like you’re trying chocolate chip ice cream instead of strawberry, like it’s something so easy, when it’s really not. If you keep this up, you could be on the road to having biracial kids. How do you just try that? You either do, or you don’t. And as my daughter, you don’t. I forbid it!”

  The lump in her throat grew. She was angry, with most of the anger aimed at Tyson. Her remorse for letting her father down took over her mind and her body. She felt hot. She took a deep breath, and forced herself to swallow. She cleared her throat hard and then spoke. “I really am trying. Trying to honor you, yet I’m trying something I’ve never done and honoring myself. I have to say it to myself and be okay with it, just like I’m saying it to you. I’m dating a black man. Also, I’ve quit my job. Daddy, I’ve been looking back at my life lately. I have no kids and never been married, but I’ve been making good money on my own, in spite of your wealth and the monthly trust I get. And I know that increases when I turn forty soon. But I’ve never asked you for anything. Aside from the money, I want to enjoy life, love and be loved, have a family, travel, start my own business, and yes, date people who I have chemistry with, no matter what they look like. I want to fall in love.”

  He looked away with flushed eyes. His face was red.

  She noticed. “I kind of want to apologize to you for what I’m doing, and I kind of don’t. Should I be sorry that I’m excited about seeing what comes of this connection between me and this man of another race. Daddy, he’s funny, he’s nice, he’s open, he’s available, he doesn’t have kids, and he’s got his own money. He’s just someone I’m dating. Someone I almost have to date, just to prove to myself that I’m doing all I can to increase my chances of being with a potential mate. A potential husband. A last love.”

  He brought his knife-like eyes to her expectant eyes. “Last love my ass! One thing he’s not going to be is your husband, or the father of your children.” He got louder. “I forbid it. And how dare you pick some black person who you work with, of all places? You’ve embarrassed me in front of Tyson. He and I go way back. I met him through his father. Tyson knows how I feel about this. But thank God he told me.”

  She got half as loud, with her eyes welling up. “You act like him telling you my business is a good thing. A blessing. I can’t believe Tyson called my daddy like I’m some three year old, and here you are scolding me like I’m on punishment. I have purposefully ignored any advances from any man who was not the color of my skin for my entire life, just to make you happy. But, I can’t do that anymore. I won’t do it anymore. And that’s that!”

  He stayed focused on her with a look as if he no longer recognized her. “You know where your room is. Go to it and think about why it is that you’ve decided to go against my wishes after all this time.” He pointed upstairs with his eyes.

  “I already know why it is. I’m doing it for me!” She grabbed her purse and overnight bag, and then hurried, exiting the kitchen speedily, heading up the spiral staircase to the second floor, toward her bedroom to the right.

  She heard the doors of the elevator open and close.

  She slammed the door to her room, realizing that even though she was a grown thirty-nine year old woman, she felt like a disobedient child serving detention for disobeying the rules. He told her to go to her room, and she did.

  Shasta violated the rules of race in the Gibson household.

  A no-no.

  Chapter 16

  Evans, GA

  The next day was Sunday. At eight that overcast morning, after Shasta tossed and turned all night in her bedroom in her father’s home, she received a text.

  Mommy: I heard you were visiting your dad this weekend. If you can, I’d love it if you would come to the 11 am service today. And then maybe we can have lunch.

  Shasta: Sure. I’d love that.

  Mommy: Lovely. See you then.

  After having spent the previous day’s time in the tense home of her father, after being scolded and then ignored, Shasta had not gotten a wink of sleep. She had convinced herself to leave that morning anyway. So she got up and showered, and packed up her things.

  When she trudged down the staircase of the huge home with her bag, she discovered that her father was gone anyway. She didn’t call him on his phone, she didn’t leave a note or anything. She just left, saying to herself, I guess I’ll never get a key to this big old ugly door anyway. She lo
cked it from the inside.

  It was eleven-thirty, and the church choir had finished, the tithing baskets had been passed around, and the announcements had been made.

  The Wesley United Methodist Church in Evans, Georgia was a one-thousand seat contemporary worship center, only fourteen years old, made of light brick, with high cathedral steeples and stained glass windows. There were ornamental railings and metal hardware, with bibles and copies of the day’s program along the back of each pew.

  The sanctuary was packed with parishioners.

  Shasta sat back upon the emerald cushion, crossed her legs, wearing pointy gold metallic heels, then she glanced down at the program. The organist began to play, and out walked the lead pastor, Reverend Melvin Weaver, and the first lady, Charlotte Weaver, Shasta’s mom. Her mom looked classy, in tan T-strap heels, a white suit and white hat.

  Charlotte, thick and tall, with alabaster skin and auburn hair and light brown eyes, held on to the hand of her husband. He waited until she took her seat, and she made sure to place a modesty cloth over her lap. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. They released hands and he approached the pulpit.

  His tailored suit was gray, with a two-button jacket. It matched the color of his salt and pepper Afro. Without hesitation, he proceeded to preach, speaking in a soulful voice just as deep as the shade of his deep brown skin.

  “I’m focusing on a special message, a different message from the one I spoke on at the early service. For this service, the message is ‘The Gift of Family.’ Some people in families deal with things that have been passed down, mainly things they’ve been taught.”

  Shasta felt her heart thump, and her chest rise. She knew her eyes were bugged. She crossed her legs and adjusted her clutch bag over her lap, bracing herself for the word.

  “And when those things are hurtful, addictive, negative, repeated generation after generation, it can be called a generational curse. Those family members who are stung by piercing beliefs need a shift in atmosphere. When you can shift and move over, an anointing comes up and upon you. But most times it takes hitting rock bottom to shift. And it’s tough to watch loved ones hit the ground before they are motivated to get up, but that’s oftentimes where the lesson lies. And trust and believe, they have to want to get up, more than you want them to get up. Can I get an Amen?”